


Date Night

by Petró-Oso (bearsquares)



Series: This is believe me music, this is forget me music [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Minor Injuries, One Shot, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, mentions of companions/NPCs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-13 23:45:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14123442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearsquares/pseuds/Petr%C3%B3-Oso
Summary: Travis asks the vault dweller out on a date. Hopefully he'll get something other than a gunshot wound.





	Date Night

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this entirely because I found the black vest and slacks in Travis' suitcase as a random thing and I thought he'd look cute. Anyway, this has been sitting around as a WIP for 2 YEARS.
> 
> But I finished it. 3 Travis Smuts. Complete.
> 
> The tense switches at the very end by the way. I just kept it? Sorry. Heads up.

 

-

 

Travis Miles sat on the edge of his bed, adjusting his black vest for the hundredth time. A surprising and terrifying turn of events had taken place in his life recently. The vault dweller kissed him. The scene played on a constant loop in his head: they gunned down about a dozen raiders, Travis breathed an enormous sigh of relief — then she grabbed him by his jacket and pushed her lips against his and _man oh man_ his knees felt weak just thinking about it.

That was probably why his would-be girlfriend called it quits.

That was exactly why.

He came up with two solutions to his problem. First, he wouldn’t show his dumb fucking face at the Dugout during Scarlett's shifts. Second, he would ask the vault dweller out on a date. After a few sleepless nights and maybe a shot of whatever he had on hand, Travis managed to pull both of those things off. His interaction with the vault dweller was still a total blur but when he managed to get the question out without vomiting, and she accepted, a whole bunch of new problems emerged. These were trivial problems to your average person of dating age, like figuring out where to take her and what to do. It wasn't so easy for Travis, especially when he couldn't stop thinking about things going south. And maybe going south _on her_.

The mousy radio DJ scolded himself at the thought.

He looked down at his slightly wrinkled slacks and hoped he didn't look stupid. _What if I'm over-dressed? What if she's over-dressed but looks fucking beautiful and I can't stop staring at her? Would it even be considered over-dressed if everyone's okay with it?_ Travis realized he knew nothing about dates in the classic sense of the term. Worse yet, the vault dweller actually came from a time when people still _had_ dates on the regular. And she was very pretty and definitely knew what to expect after however many hundreds of dates she'd had.

_I am so screwed.  
_

Travis put his panic session on hold and leaned over to his mic. “Thanks for tuning in to Diamond City Radio. We're bringing you long sets of music to get you through the day, wherever you are. Up next we have Louis Jordan with something...none of us want to hear. This is “Jack, You're Dead”.”

He was screwed, but not completely screwed. In spite of his current level of freaking out, Travis had done his homework.

In most situations, Travis called on his good friend Vadim for advice but the guy had no filter when it came to certain subjects. Moreover, Travis wasn't about to stroll into the Dugout and let Vadim broadcast his private affairs to the entire bar. He tried to demonstrate something with a carrot once and that was enough for Travis to never mention sex in front of him _ever again_.

Thankfully, the vault was pretty close with a few locals.

They had never had a real conversation before but he managed to corner Nick Valentine outside of his office for a brief interrogation earlier that week. Nick didn’t believe he had a date with his near-indestructible travel partner but, in all fairness, who would? Nick had asked if he really knew what he was getting himself into and Travis had nodded politely rather than being honest and saying “hopefully her pants, detective.”

Piper — dear, sweet Piper — was the one who saved his ass. He owed her every box of gumdrops he'd find for the rest of his life. At first, she didn't believe that Blue was actually going out with him. It was admittedly a little depressing to hear it a second time. Piper seemed to take pity on him, though.

“You know, you two _do_ have a lot in common,” she said.

Travis remembered his cheeks had turned very pink at that.

Piper then gave him one of her trademark smirks. “Well, if any of us are living in the past, it's you. You're listening to music from before the bombs every day of your life.” The thought hit him like an epiphany. “I bet she could tell you _all_ about it.”

A rapid flurry of knocks that could only be an impatient, snotty little kid broke him from his thoughts.

“It's open!” Travis called out. “Because I always forget to lock it…” He finished in a growl.

The door groaned open and an impatient, snotty little kid sauntered in — Sheng Kowalski: Diamond City's youngest and most ruthless entrepreneur. “Alright, I’m here. You’d better get going before I change my mind.”

“Sure. I really appreciate you doing thi-”

“Yeah, yeah. Look, you owe me, Miles.” Travis opened his mouth to reply but Sheng cut him off. “I'm stepping away from my own thriving business to fill in for your—” He looked over the wall of ancient, dusty electronics with distaste— “non-profit operation here. I hope you understand how valuable my time is.”

Travis rolled his eyes. “It’s almost 8pm, people are going to bed.”

Sheng crossed his skinny little arms, raising an eyebrow at him. Any interaction Travis had with Sheng usually resulted in bullying. “I want more advertisement spots. _And_ you’re paying me for tonight.”

“Whoa, whoa... _what_?”

“By the hour.”

“Sheng, it's not a favor if I’m paying you to do it!”

Sheng looked plain offended and threw his hands up. “I never agreed to a _favor_ , Miles. You got it in writing or something?”

Travis pinched the bridge of his nose. The last-minute stress was getting to be too much for him. “Look, I’m gonna be late and I just need to go—”

“Where are you going, anyway?”

_Oh god._

“Is it a date?" Sheng gave him a shrewd once over. Travis almost expected him to demand that he spin around for him. “You’re dressed nice, so is it or not?”

“I’m leaving now.”

“At least two ads an hour! You hear m-”

The door slammed behind him, muting the kid and forcing Travis right out of his comfort zone.

 

-

 

_This is Sheng Kowalski and you’re listening to Diamond City Radio. Travis is, uh, taking the night off. Doing what? I don't know because he wouldn't tell me! So I’m here to play the music and...here it is. Wait - crap. Here it is!_

 

-

 

If he timed it right, which he did, Travis had 2 minutes to get to the vault dweller’s house. Thoughts of her not being there or never showing up were already beginning to nag at him but before he could take one step he looked up and his heart skipped a beat.

She was directly in his eye-line, leaning primly against the railing leading back to the market. He noted her summery blue top and yellow shorts were neither over nor under-dressed and she still had that lax, almost delinquent angle to her entire body. He loved that about her. A security guard passed her by, probably making some unprovoked comment. Travis knew she was a few years older than him but the way she tucked her hair behind her ear as a means to look the other way was a youthful sort of cool he'd never seen before. The last few lights of sunset cast orange and purple hues across her tanned skin and it made her look like some kind of surreal vision of an old world teenager. His dumb musical brain just had to start playing "Summertime" — the Miles Davis version, definitely.

Deep breath. “Hey, vault dweller,” he said casually — or tried to, anyway.

She flipped her aviators up on top of her head and flashed him a demure little grin. “I'm a little early, huh.”

Travis already felt a blush creeping up his chest. He let out a weird little nervous laugh. _Just let me die_. “Nah. I hope you weren't waiting long.”

The vault dweller shook her head. “I’m impressed, Travis. We didn’t even talk dress code beforehand.” She looked him up and down. “You look good.”

“Oh, thanks.” He looked down at himself, already having forgotten what he was wearing. “I never get the chance to wear these duds so I suppose this is as good a time as ever.” Shit, he was focusing on not stuttering and totally missed the window to return the compliment. _Shit shit shit_. Travis cleared his throat. “Anyway, you look really nice, er, cute.” He tried to say it like it was no big deal but he was definitely avoiding eye contact and about to scream at himself. “I've never seen you in something like that before - you, uh, look really cute in it.” _You already said that, you fucking embarrassment of a human being.  
_

“Why, thanks.” She quickly, almost nervously, adjusted her blouse. “Can't say I'm used to something that's all comfort, no utility. Can you imagine walking into a raider camp in this modest yet sporty number?”

“No, and I'd like to keep it that way.”

She let out a rough laugh while he thought about what she usually wore, which wasn’t much. All utility, built for stealth and boy was it tight. _Yup, time to change the subject._ “So, I said I'd take care of uh, things…” he finished in a mutter. “And I figured we could take a walk.”

The vault dweller gave an eager little squirm. “Ooh where to? Or is it a surprise?”

He fought back a smile. “Maybe it's outside of the city and maybe it's definitely a surprise.”

“Aw, Travis. Just _can't_ get enough of that wasteland now, can ya?”

The thought of another two-hour hike to a dingy, blood-smeared nest full of psychopaths made him shudder. “Ahaa yeah… You know me…”

The vault dweller grinned and flipped her shades down over eyes. “Speaking of wastelands—" Travis gulped. "I have something I wanted to show you later.” She put a hand up, acknowledging the face Travis made. “I know you asked _me_ out and everything, but I found something I think you're really gonna dig.”

He knew better and waited for the disclaimer.

“It might be a little dangerous, though, so I want to make sure you're up for it.”

Travis grumbled an _oh fuck_ in his head as she shouldered an olive drab duffel bag, which seemingly came out of nowhere. Packed with firearms and explosives and _hadn't she brained a guy with a nail bat_? For all he knew she was going to drag his ass through the ruins and get him another nice gunshot wound. He still had a few scars from the last time they went out together. It wasn't as if he didn't trust her, but he kind of planned on the brewery being his last major outing.

“So...you in?”

Travis sighed. They were one spitty handshake away from a secret clubhouse death pact. “Huh, wouldn't you know it, I left my missile launcher at home-”

The vault dweller silenced him by gently taking his hand. “Don't you worry about a thing, cutie pie,” she teased, smirking up at him, “I've got a big, bad assault rifle with your name on it.”

Travis “Cutie Pie” Miles mumbled a content “okay” and she led him off into yet another super dangerous situation. He was much happier about it this time, though; he loved how her hand felt in his. Though he could probably never bring himself to say it, he was the calmest he'd ever felt when he was with her - rads, bullet, and all.

 

It was a little awkward walking through the city and getting looks from the locals who still hadn't quite adjusted to Travis not being a complete shut-in. There was also the fact that he had insisted on carrying the vault dweller’s bag so the former cowardly shut-in had an impressive arsenal strapped to his back. It made him look a little like a badass — or a joke. Maybe.

Some folks smirked, or even threw a wolf whistle their way. They hadn't even done anything and he was already on the walk of shame. Most, however, were polite enough to give the vault dweller a nod or a quick greeting — some even thanked her for her work in passing.

“People really seem to like you.”

“Hm?”

“I mean… you only showed up here last November and they give more of a crap about you than they ever did about the mayor.” He paused. “I mean, well, aside from the synth stuff.”

She glanced up at him sidelong, furrowing her brows in deep thought. “Gee, I wonder how all of these people know about what I've been up to all this time. It's like… someone’s been telling them all about what's been going on!" Travis gave her a sheepish smile and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I appreciate what you've done.”

It was easy for him to forget that she was actually General of the Minutemen. Someone so seemingly carefree who never showed him the stress she must have felt trying to rebuild the Commonwealth's faith in decent, helpful people. He’d seen her walk into the city with Preston Garvey a few times (jealousy was a hard pill to swallow) and the two of them were immediately swamped with talk of dangerous rumors and people who needed their help — tireless work. For that reason, he really hoped she liked what he had planned for her, if not just to help her forget about all of that pressure for a night.

 

They made idle conversation while they walked out past the gate and into the ruins. Travis was ecstatic when she told him how much she loved it when he played Louis Jordan songs. In his experience, few people actually had the patience for that brand of humor in music. He wasn't sure whether he thought it was cute or unnerving when she animatedly told him about how she picked off an entire raider camp to “Ain't Nobody Here But Us Chickens”. Maybe a little of both. Travis still spent most of their walk feeling his heart do all kinds of crazy stuff because they were still holding hands and he wanted to kiss her again so badly. The entire situation still felt weird and unreal, almost dreamlike. The nylon strap digging heavily into his shoulder was the only exception.

After a quick trek up some dusty stairs, he led her out to a nice little section of rooftop. The vault dweller exclaimed her approval, calm yet sincere. Travis (with the help of Danny Sullivan of all people) had found the perfect date spot in a crumbling office building near the junkyard. There were some old lawn chairs nearby, an empty chem cooler, and an old trash can. Groaning and cussing up a storm, he’d dragged all of it up three flights of stairs. He also made sure to scrounge up a radio because he knew he'd be even more nervous and awkward than usual _without_ something playing in background.

“Okay, Travis. Out with it.”

Travis was busy untangling himself from the vault dweller's duffel bag. “Huh?”

She plopped down on one of the chairs, crossing her legs at the knee. His attention snapped right to the thick curves of her thighs. “How the hell did you manage this? This is so nice!”

“Would you believe I just _found_ all of this up here?”

“Sure, I trust you not to lie to me like a dog.”

He took a seat next to her. “Woof.”

She fought back a laugh. “Be a good boy and pass me a drink, will ya?”

 

-

 

_That was Bing Crosby with a song about girls. Again. Now here is a…some lady singing a song about men, I guess. Which button is it? This one? Nope...maybe this one._

 

-

 

They spent a while chatting, real amiable, passing a Gwinnett stout back and forth. Travis never had anyone who would listen to him ramble about music off the air, and, according to her, he knew way more about jazz music than anyone she'd met — even before the war. He wondered if the vault dweller still remembered songs that he would probably never hear and secretly hoped that she might hum a few bars for him one day. Travis would have to keep that little thought to himself.  
  
The sun had finished setting and the sky had gone dark and surprisingly clear. If he was paying attention he would have been delighted to see stars and even some gauzy, white clouds. Instead he was tracing the barely visible outline of his date's body reclined in the deck chair. _Quit staring, you weirdo_. He tilted his head back, trying like hell to ignore their proximity.

“Wanna know something crazy?” She said.

“Sure...”

The vault dweller's voice got quiet. “You never used to see stars for miles around Boston. But now, even this quick after sunset, it’s all...” She gestured widely in the dark. “Boom.”

 _Boom_ was right. It seemed like the inky sky had opened up and exploded into an endless glittery sea. It reminded him of broken glass for some reason. He never really noticed it before, being confined to Diamond City which had its own little bubble of light pollution.

“Well, maybe that's one good thing about the Commonwealth," he muttered.

“I'd say so.” Her fingers bumped against his when he passed her the bottle. He listened to the faint sound of her lips circling the rim of the bottle, and swallowed a hard lump in his throat. He felt weird being so fixed on the subtleties of her speech and her movements, but he was _enthralled_ by her. "What should we do if it starts raining?"  
  
For some reason it felt like a very important question and he did _NOT_ want to fuck it up. "I, uh.” Travis cleared his throat. "I mean, we don't have to go back and cut things short. I don't care about being wet or anything."  
  
He could hear a smile cut her voice. “Good to know.” Travis felt his stomach clench in anticipation. Each little hint that she felt the same way he did and wanted the same _things_ he did filled him with nervous energy — was it adrenaline? Was he dying? "Wanna build a fire?"  
  
_Oh, thank god_. "Yes."  
  
As she began coaxing a flame out of garbage, the vault dweller said something about learning survival skills in Ranger School. It sounded very cool and somewhat terrifying even though he had no idea what it meant. He made sure to down the rest of their beer while she was otherwise occupied in the hopes of calming his nerves. It worked well enough.

Travis handed her a pilsner (which she accepted gratefully) and finally took a stab at conversation. “So, I'm still curious about where you came from.”

“Okay,” she ventured, “what would you like to know?”

“Um, well,” he swallowed. “I read your interview with Piper and it said you came from Vault 111. And I mean...” He sighed, trying to slow his thoughts down a little. “What was your life like back before…everything?”

The corners of her mouth twitched a little before she sipped her beer. “Around here? It was — well, it was a different kind of chaotic. Way more trees, though.” The vault dweller shifted in her seat. “I dunno, I settled down and moved here and had a pretty normal life, I guess.”

He caught himself before he made a comment on how temporary that must feel now. She seemed comfortable around him but he could see how her shoulders had stiffened. “Well, what did you do for fun?” She snorted. “I know I’m one to talk, but there had to be something. Come on.”

“Honestly? Stuff like this. Even back out west, I just liked to listen to music and spend the night outside,” she said. There was a sweet, dreamy look on her face. “Charlie would join me sometimes, but he was always more into..." She paused, then peeked over at Travis. "Ah, fuck. I'm sorry.”

Travis was quiet for a bit. “Charlie was your husband?”

“I shouldn't talk about him while we're…you know.”

To make things worse, the voice of dear, sweet Skeeter Davis was crooning out of the radio speakers. Without thinking, Travis gently laced his fingers between hers. “I really don't mind.” He looked at his shoes. “I mean, everyone’s lost somebody and it's okay to miss them. It's just, well, I get it.”

All he could hear the vault dweller's breath catch. Great time to wax poetic.

“He would have really liked you, Travis,” she finally said.

He felt his face get very hot. He figured now would be a good enough time to ask to kiss her but he only managed to stare at the fire. Really, really hard.

Thankfully, Sheng switched over to Link Wray and Travis felt his little kick of inebriated confidence return. “Oh, by the way, Vadim sent us a little present.”

“Is it moonshine?” Travis kicked the cooler open and jokingly bit his lip while he pulled the bottle out. “Hot damn, it's moonshine!” She screwed the cap off and took a swig right away. “Anyway, how about you? Where'd you grow up?”

Travis’ heart sank. He almost dropped the bottle when she passed it back to him. He had never spoken about his childhood to anyone in any capacity and that was the honest truth. This had to have been the heaviest conversation on a first date in the entire history of first dates. He paused to knock a little more alcohol down his throat. What a nice, smooth burn. Bless Vadim.

“Capital Wasteland," Travis choked out. Her eyebrows shot up. “I-I mean, my mom was from up here but my dad was from down there. W-we only came back up after I came along and was old enough.” He coughed. “You know…”

Her eyes flashed with an almost ferocious curiosity. “What was it like?”

“Hot and scary — _really_ humid. More super mutants than people. Bad.” The vault dweller seemed eager for more details. “I don't remember a whole lot, but it was kind of a _when_ , not _if_ deal…you know, of when you’d get murdered. Whole settlements got wiped out all the time.”

“Oh god… Sorry.”

“No, no, it's ok! I mean, there are probably some okay places down there now, but it used to be...yeah.”

“I shouldn't have bugged you about it.”

Travis laughed his shaky laugh that he hated so much. “It's fine. Don't worry, I don't remember much.” This was only half true. Travis definitely remembered Grayditch. He remembered the first time he fired a gun and the last time he saw his dad. Those were his only memories that weren't somehow related to Diamond City. The vault dweller gently nudged him and jolted him out of his accidental tumble down memory lane.

“I think we both need to take a shot and forget about it.”

Travis sighed loudly. “I vote yes.”

They didn't talk for a while and instead made an impressive yet very unhealthy effort to finish an entire bottle of alcohol. At some point in their drinking, they had both moved out of their chairs and closer to the fire. One or both of them had scooted over so their shoulders were pressed together and her thigh was brushing against his.

All of him felt hot.

“A-are we blowing this first date stuff or what?” Travis gave a wavering little laugh.

“Hey, it's not like there are any cars for joyrides or drive-ins for fooling around in the backseat.”

He raised an eyebrow feeling his cheeks flush a bit deeper. "Is _that_ what you did?”

She swallowed the clear, burning liquid from her bottle, letting a little drip past her lips and down her chin. He briefly imagined kissing his way down her neck, tasting pure alcohol on his tongue as he went.

“For starters.” The vault dweller leaned in, her voice taking on a smooth, teasing tone. “You sound awful curious…ever been in a car?”

“Nope, they usually explode if they take any stray bullets, so I try to avoid them,” Travis blurted. Boy, did he need to work on his flirting. To be fair, he was basically drunk at that point and his head was swimming with all kinds of thoughts.

 _She_ didn't seem to notice how dorky he sounded, though. “Maybe I'll find one out of the way sometime and we can take another dangerous field trip." Her cheeks were flushed when she looked into his eyes and gently stroked one finger along the top of his thigh. He couldn’t look away from her darkened eyes. _Fuck._ “One with a _real_ nice interior.”

Normally, he would be stammering and trying like hell not to pop a boner at the unexpected move, but he was feeling drunk enough to play it right back. “What, you gonna teach me to drive or something?”

“In a sense. Think you could handle it?”

He gave her a lazy grin. “With the right motivation.”

She hummed low, lips curving into a smile. He reached up, stroked his thumb across her cheek and leaned in to kiss her.

“Wait.”

Their lips had barely touched and Travis let out a grunt.

“What.”

“I just remembered.

 _Please just let me kiss you._ “Nngh.” He reeled it in, telling himself that patience now would pay off later. “What is it?”

“Before we're too wasted to make it, I need to take you to that thing.”

“What thing?”

“Y’know. The thing. That I said earlier.”

His memory was shit by now but he wasn't going to ask for clarification. Not now. Travis sighed and bit his lip before asking. “Can I kiss you first?”

Her mouth fell open a little for a second. Perfect. “‘kay.”

It had been a _long_ time since Travis had actually kissed anyone, and he couldn't even count his first. He'd been too young, it was awkward and sloppy, and remembering it made him want to throw himself into a mirelurk nest. But he was in his late twenties now, and he _wanted_ this with the vault dweller. Travis was running on booze and instinct — his confidence wasn't even a concern.

The vault dweller skimmed her lips over his. Her expert tongue slid into his mouth and he made some pathetic noise. She tasted like alcohol and her mouth was _soft,_ goddamnit.

She broke away, “let's go, yeah?”

Travis, dazed and breathing heavily, finished off her abandoned bottle of moonshine to drown out his mounting frustration and mumbled something to the affirmative. He was fucking drunk and hopped up on hormones. The next hour would be a blur.

 

-

 

_This is Sheng Kowlaski and you’re listening to Diamond City Radio. It’s, uh, way past my bedtime, but we’ve got some news. Good news! Nick Valentine is back in Diamond City and isn’t dead like some of us thought. Know what else in Diamond City is good? Refreshing purified water._

 

-

 

They had stumbled through the ruins fairly successfully. In part, Travis noted, because he followed close behind her like a faithful little dog. Even though he was drunk, he knew getting lost would probably be the death of him, so he loped clumsily after her expert, fluid movements. He had no idea where they were, but the vault dweller seemed to have a route in mind and they hadn't run into anything nasty — until they rolled up to Trinity Tower.

“ **WHAT**?” 

It was the unmistakable gravelly tone of a super mutant. 

It was a good thing Travis was wasted because the abject terror he would have felt sober was watered down to giddy nervousness. He crept close behind the vault dweller trying not to giggle. It almost felt like a game of hide and seek to him, fucked up as it sounded. It sure beat shitting a brick in front of his potential girlfriend. _I would be so fucking lucky_. The thought gave him a little head rush as he watched her flatten herself against the bricks, body tensed to kill. Her breasts stuck out in the nicest way. Travis never would have imagined being turned on so close to death. 

“ **WHO’S THERE**???” The voice barked.

There was a click — the hammer on the vault dweller’s 10mm. With a smooth exhale she sprung up, aiming high, and leaned around the corner, arm first. She fired three even shots like she was completely sober before whipping back behind the wall. A fine spray of masonry followed, exploding right next to her shoulder.

Travis remembered when they were back at the brewery together. Before he followed her in (and somehow made it to first base), he asked her for any last minute advice. She had immediately said, “don't think about what the other guy has that you don't, you'll just set yourself up to fail.” He gathered that it was her way of telling him to try not to get psyched out and fuck it up, so he made all attempts to do just that. Travis later understood what she really meant when she stabbed a raider through the neck with his own knife. He sighed deeply at the thought, again trying to process that he actually had a date, let alone with a trained killer. And that he was fine with it. More than fine.

Travis hiccuped a little. “Are we about to be dead?” His voice came out more deadpan than he intended.

“Depends on how fast we are," the vault dweller whispered. “On the count of three, we're going to run.” She looked him blearily in the eyes. Man, she was cute — and holding a live grenade. “Like, really really fa-” He cut her off with a quick kiss but she kept right on taking. “-st, do you understand me?”

“Yes,” he lied. 

The vault dweller pulled the pin, lobbed the frag grenade and made a break for the sidewalk. It must have been pure adrenaline that got Travis through the bullets whizzing past his ears and two steps ahead of the heavy paw-falls of a mutant hound _just at his heels_. Thankfully, he was numb to all of it. At one point he felt a fiery stinging in his shoulder, which was probably another gunshot wound (as predicted), but he kept running anyway. Travis Miles was not ready to die, especially when there was a strong possibility of getting the vault dweller out of those bright yellow shorts. 

They rounded a street corner and he was vaguely aware of where they were. Again, it would have scared him shitless had he been sober. In Diamond City, Swan’s Pond was a story you told kids to get them to behave. Very few people dared travel near it yet here they were, hauling ass right past the nightmarish lagoon. This would have been where sober Travis broke down completely, but drunk Travis was too busy hauling ass up the street and marveling at how much his shoulder fucking hurt.

He heard his blood pumping — or maybe it was his feet pounding against the cracked pavement — with every ragged breath but, at last, the vault dweller caught him. She yanked him with her down a hidden flight of stairs, through a heavy wooden door, and plunged them both into complete silence.

Right away, stupid drunk Travis began to say something but the vault dweller clapped a hand over his mouth.

It felt like an hour before she finally drew away.

“Not to complain or anything,” Travis rasped, “but I think I got shot again.”

The vault dweller gasped and immediately patted him down. He was a little flattered by her concern. She let out a long, smooth cuss before ripping Travis’ vest and shirt open. His first reaction was to feel self-conscious but then she was pressing on his shoulder so hard he almost started crying.

“Holy shit. Clean through…”

His eyes were blurry with tears but he could see her rifling through the green duffel bag. He watched as she jammed a stimpak painfully close to his wound, deep as it would go. It was somehow more painful than getting shot to begin with.

A muffled cry tore out of him as his muscles began to stitch themselves back together. "FUCK!" He ground out. "How do you stand these things?!"

“I'm so sorry, Travis.”

What a time to start sobering up. He took a deep, calming breath then laughed weakly. “Hey, déjà vu, right?”

She smiled, almost sadly. “You remember what comes next?” Part of him immediately thought _sex,_ but she handed him a half full bottle of whiskey. “You're gonna want this.”

“I think I blocked this part out.”

“Smart.”

He obediently took a quick pull, and she set to work. “I'll Get By (As Long As I Have You)” was crackling out of her Pip-Boy while Travis tried not to yelp and hiss in pain at each pass of the needle. Hoping to distract himself, he began to look past her, over her shoulder. He realized they were in some kind of old world bar. It wasn't one of those fancy ones with the chandeliers and huge bay windows and creepy artifacts. It was a little dumpy, in fact, but cozy at the same time.

The bottle was empty and Travis was pleasantly numb once again.

The vault dweller smiled. “Good job.”

She pushed his hair back from his clammy forehead and gently kissed his forehead. It didn't matter where or how she kissed him, he melted into a little puddle for her each time.

“Weird how I get shot every time we go out together.” Travis chuckled while she futzed with his shirt, trying to button it back up even though most of the buttons went flying earlier.

“If it makes you feel any better, anyone who travels with me winds up getting injured at some point.” 

“Really?”

“A lot.” 

“Wow.”

 "Ask Deacon."

"Who?"

"Nevermind."

He caught himself wondering if any of them got kisses from the vault dweller.

Without a word, she disappeared into what looked like a back office. He sat numb on his ass for a moment before realizing he was allowed to move again. Travis dragged himself to standing, regretted it, sat back down, tried again (much better), then made his way over to a dusty bar. The vault dweller emerged from the office with a very cumbersome-looking suitcase. She politely declined any help and hefted the worn-out suitcase onto the bar, throwing the latches open.

“This,” she said with a flourish.

Travis gasped as a huge mess of holotapes practically spilled out of the suitcase.

“I thought about what Vadim said a while back, about the radio being terrible. I thought there was no way it was just because of your stuttering. I mean, you only have so many songs to work with. So, I've uh, been squirreling these away for a while. Some are mine that survived, some are from random places… But they're yours now.”

Travis continued gaping. He had never seen so much music in his short life. It was possibly the most thoughtful gift he had ever received. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time someone had given him a present. He was opening and closing his mouth; words weren't even coming to him. Travis only wished he wasn't still a little drunk so he could come up with a meaningful way to express his thanks. All he managed was, “you're so nice to me.”

The vault dweller chuckled. “You’re too cute, Travis.”

“I am?" 

For effect, she tugged at his vest to pull him down to her height. “Yes.” 

Initially, he kept his mouth closed, her lips pillowed softly against his, but the second she ground her hips against his, he was off. He got needy, she got rough, and seconds later they were backed up against a pool table somewhere in another room, stripped to their waists.

It was so nice to feel her breath hitch against his neck while he pressed gentle kisses down the slope of her shoulder. She leaned back and kissed him once to get his lips to drop open and twice to delve her tongue into his mouth. Travis always felt like he was a weak kisser but he must have never had a partner who could ease him into things like she did. He swiped his tongue across hers and felt he’d come on the spot hearing her moan. He was still holding himself back, though, extremely worried about screwing up. He didn't want to go for her tits or dive between her legs and make her mad. Just as he was finishing his thought, she was stroking her hand over the front of his slacks and all bets were off.

He untucked her blouse and tugged it upwards over her bra. Her tongue was in his mouth again, and his fingers were figuring out the goddamn bra but she was undoing his pants and he was completely hard. The vault dweller mercifully shifted her shoulders enough so he could yank on the offending garment and scoot it down to her waist.

He goggled stupidly at her chest for a second before she carefully guided his hands up to her breasts. The movement triggered a pulse of dull pain in his shoulder but he couldn’t have cared less. Her hands closed over his and he gave her tits a gentle squeeze. She made an appreciative growling noise while he palmed her breasts, placing a hand behind his neck and pulling him down into a rough kiss.

His hips pushed needily against her and the friction against his cock was fit to drive him crazy. The vault dweller bit his lip and he swiped his thumbs across her nipples, and holy fuck her hand was shoved down the front of his pants. Travis gasped at the contact — no one had ever touched him there. If his evening ended with even a hand job he’d probably cry out of sheer gratitude.

“Travis, wait a second.”

He kissed her before replying. “What is it?”

“Lay on your back," she whispered, lips still brushing against his.

“Oh, uh...okay…”

He obediently hopped up onto the pool table watched her shuck her yellow shorts off and climb on top of him. His eyes were comically wide trying to take in the sight of an actual, gorgeous, undressed woman in front of his face — not in a magazine, not catching his eye through a cracked door, completely real and right fucking in front of him. The smattering of scars and healing wounds made a beautiful sort of contrast with her naturally lovely features and he was absolutely, definitely in love. Travis had no idea what unthinkable flavor of wonderful she was about to grace him with but he felt like the luckiest human being alive at that moment.

She swung her leg over his hips and pulled herself over him. Except she was backwards and her ass was close to his face and she was shimmying his pants down and _oh wait oh god holy fuck._ He didn't even have to ask. _Take that, Connie Allen.  
_

Travis smoothed his hands over her thighs before helping her out of one leg of her sleek white panties. He couldn't help himself and gently squeezed two handfuls of her ass, spreading her and glancing between her legs. _Good fucking god._

A sharp bite on his inner thigh made him yelp and he stopped.

“Watch that arm, but...don't hold back for me, okay?”

“What do you mea-” his voice died in a gasp as she took him into her mouth. All the way back. He lost himself in actual bliss for a moment while she slowly drew her mouth up the shaft, lathing her tongue around his cock as she went. His body jerked a little each time she fell forward and he brushed against the roof of her mouth. Nothing could have prepared him for how good she felt. But as much as he loved having her mouth on him, he had really, really wanted to eat her out. The only problem was he’d never done it before. He’d never seen it done, either. _Ever_.

He swallowed thickly and gently spread her apart and almost lost it seeing how wet she was for him. He curled up and teased her clit with the tip of his tongue. Travis silently thanked Vadim for his mortifying anatomy lesson last winter. The vault dweller’s whole body stiffened and she sped her movements up just a little bit. If she wasn't careful, he'd go off right in her mouth. Travis still took his time figuring her out — her hips began quivering and he had to hold her still the more he tasted her. He started lapping against her, tracing every ridge and fold, dipping his tongue inside, gently sucking and biting her clit. All while she was alternating stroking him off and swallowing his cock all the way back, whimpering and moaning almost desperately. No fucking wonder people wrote songs about this.

She popped off of him and panted, voice entirely desperate and weak, “c-can you finger me?”

Travis didn’t have it in him to reply so he just slid two fingers into her while he continued swiping his tongue neatly against her clit. “Oh god - don’t stop, don’t stop, it’s perf- a-aah!”

She came with a loud, ecstatic gasp, followed by smaller, weaker moans as she immediately took his cock back into her throat. Everything was so tight and hot in just the right way, he had to snap his head back, stifling his urge to slam his hips up against her jaw. Travis was seconds away from coming but some presumptuous, over-confident little piece of him decided to take control of his mouth.

“Get on top.” 

He was appalled that he’d said it (in such a demanding way, no less) but the quickness with which she mounted him drove the apologies right out of him. The vault dweller braced her hands above his shoulders and straddled his narrow hips. She was incredibly wet and the way her slicked herself against the underside of his cock could have brought him to tears.

Travis bit his lip hard enough to draw blood when she seated herself, letting him slide into her in one smooth thrust.

He screwed his eyes shut.

She covered his open mouth with hers while she rocked her hips. A loud groan was trapped in his chest and it would never make it out. The perfect, soft heat of her only pulled him off three times and he fell to pieces with a desperate gasp.

His head thunked back against the pool table. For a moment he thought he had died. And dying wasn't half bad.

The vault dwellers fingers were stroking across his cheek. “You look so cute when you come.” He mumbled something and he had no idea what it was but she laughed and he loved her laugh. She leaned down, gently touching her forehead against his. His entire nervous system was still buzzing but he smiled, well aware that his cheeks had flushed pink. “Cute as hell.”

 _I think I love you, vault dweller_.

Her lips touched his briefly and she smiled. “You know, putting out on the first date used to be a big no-no.”

“Well..." His lips twitched at the corners. “Fuck that, I guess.”

She cracked up and he quickly joined her. There vault dweller wiped a tear with the back of her hand. “I think I saw some blankets in the office. Be right back.” 

“B-blankets?”

“Yeah.”

“I-I mean, we're not gonna spend the night here, ri-" 

“Wait wait, ssh.” She put a finger tip against his lips to quiet him and his words stuttered to a whining halt. 

The radio crackled. “ _Sheng Kowlaski’s finest purified water! Diamond City’s most popular and useful export. Now here’s some music. Which button is it again? Hm...nope. Not that one...Uhhh…_ ”

Travis went completely red in face with secondhand embarrassment. “He’s even worse than I am.”

The vault dweller was sprawled across him, _giggling_. “I’d ask “your place or mine” but it sounds like you’ve got a little roommate.”

“God, that would suck.” The thought of going to bed with her was consuming every last bit of his concentration. If he was being honest, he’d cuddle up with her in a dumpster if he had to. “Yeah, okay, I’m fine to stay here. I-I mean. If you want to.” 

The vault dweller blinked, grin fading into a fond little smile. Travis realized he spent a good portion of his life frustrated that he had no one to touch and please and _work for._ Something worked in his favor and he wound up with the single most deadly person in the commonwealth as long as she’d have him. And that was more than good enough.

 

-

 

Travis wakes up to the steady hiss of radio static.

If someone had asked him days ago if he thought he'd ever end up falling asleep tangled up with a beautiful woman stripped to his underwear, Travis would have told them they're nuts. But the night before had definitely happened and he wound up with that exact result.

The vault dweller is snuggled up against his chest, arm splayed across his stomach, legs doing _something_ , and he hopes he never forgets how it feels to wake up with her. The gentle beating of her heart and her soft breaths against his skin threaten to lull him back to sleep. He grudgingly slips out from under her. There are no papers or pencils around to write her a note so he leans down and kisses her cheek before leaving.

It takes him a few minutes to find his clothes. The room is almost pitch dark, candles burned down to waxy stumps hours ago. He tugs his pants on and stumbles a little, making his way out to the bar area. 

He notices the oversized briefcase, still open and overflowing with holotapes. Travis smiles softly, clicking it shut.

The light purples and blues of pre-dawn have smatterings of stars here and there. The walk back to Diamond City is going to be hell, but it’s honestly gorgeous. He doesn’t regret a thing.

Sheng is probably going to let him have it once he wakes up.

 

 

End.

 

**Author's Note:**

> They end up in the "Prost" bar...the Cheers bar. Because reasons.
> 
> I gave Travis a little bit of a backstory because I've kind of wondered about what happened that traumatized him so badly. The Capital Wasteland sure sucks, so hey, not to say the Commonwealth isn't brutal, but...
> 
> Anyway, hi, thanks for reading! <3


End file.
